Flight #22 of my year: Liberia, Costa Rica. Other than the always lengthy seatbelt how to’s, the plane rides flew by as I took my usual position conked out and noodle curled onto the stow away table in front of me. I always love that first humid step out of the airport vancuum and into Central America…
This time there were seven of us, nine days, and thirty six degrees of sunshine. We took Heinz’s van-converted-into-taxi to a little pueblo in Guanacaste, where hopefully, ocean willing, we’d learn to surf. At the end of our first lesson we all managed to be up on our boards, and roasted redder than a canadian maple leaf. #reppin’theredflag
Walking down the street you’d maybe think the buildings are just crumpled and repainted palm trees. Im pretty sure they are. I find it amazing the artisan works people have painted onto the crumbling wood walls.
I wandered through the streets barefoot one afternoon followed by several dogs who had adopted me as their temporary owner, taking pictures of any and every texture and detail that I could try to draw later. Upon reaching the beach I found a flock of Bob Marley replica’s playing soccer. (Or as the rest of the world besides us Northern Americans would call it, football. And logically so.) I hid amongst the strewn bycicles to watch, as playing beach soccer just so happens to be one of my biggest fears. Watching dreadheaded tanned latinos race around the beach however, comes quite naturally. #:D